To Kalon

I rarely notice her beauty,
That's one aspect of her I never fantasize.
She speaks like a gentle breeze,
And when she does;
My heart and soul synchronize.
I dived into her eyes once,
That day her fingers touched my skin.
Hypnotized by the mystical chords,
Seemed as if;
On my skin, her fingers played the violin.
I don't crave for the contours of her body,
Though, it's like molten silver in an hourglass.
Pouring the liquid of adulation,                                      
If I'll do;
My golden love will look brass.
There are a thousand things about her,
But I don't want to be lost in the noise.
Swaying in the ocean of her words,
I'm in love with her musical voice.

*To Kalon means 'the beautiful' in Greek.